Page 14 of A Kiss on a Dare
So when we walk into the changing rooms, I feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.
I feel Gabrielle sneaking quick glances at me the entire time, but the moment we open our lockers, he turns away and swiftly sheds his scrubs. I stand there, frozen, watching as he stands completely naked. My eyes betray me, tracing the sharp lines of his etched muscles and smooth skin.
And then he turns. His gaze locks onto mine, catching me red-handed, blatantly ogling him.
I whip around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash, my face burning for two excruciating reasons: number one—he catches me staring, and number two—I get a glimpse of his cock. His very big, very aroused cock.
My mind spirals out of control, thoughts galloping like a runaway horse. I quickly peel off my own scrubs, my hands fumbling, and hear Gabrielle walk into the shower room. I stand there for a moment, trying desperately to collect myself, before grabbing my towel and following him, my heart pounding so loudly it drowns out every other sound in my ears.
The shower room is thick with steam, turning everything into a hazy, dreamlike blur. Through the mist, water cascades down Gabrielle’s back, tracing the lines of his muscles and gathering at the curve of his spine before slipping lower, disappearing down the perfect slope of his ass. I try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to notice the way the water clings to his skin, making it gleam. My heart pounds as I step into the stall next to him.
The silence between us is deafening, broken only by the rhythmic sound of water hitting tile. As I quickly lather myself with shower gel, Gabrielle’s presence feels like a physical weight, every nerve in my body tingling with awareness. I risk a glance in his direction and catch him watching me, his gaze intense, making my breath hitch.
The steam wraps around us, isolating us from the rest of the room, making everything feel close and unbearably intimate. I’m hyper-aware of how Gabrielle’s body is slightly angled toward me as if he’s about to say or do something. For minutes, we wash in silence, rinsing away the sweat and tension of the ICU.
Then, his shower shuts off. A wave of disappointment crashes over me, but I quickly turn away, pretending not to notice. My heart sinks as I brace myself for the sound of his footsteps retreating.
But instead of leaving, he moves closer. My breath catches, and I slowly turn, my pulse pounding, to find him standing at the edge of my stall. Water drips from his chest, tracing the defined lines of his muscles, his dark eyes fixed on me with a focus that makes my stomach flip.
“I wasn’t really drunk,” Gabrielle says, his voice low. There’s something resigned in his eyes like he’s already bracing for the fallout, whatever that might be. The steam drifts between us, softening the harsh fluorescent light into something unexpectedly intimate.
My breath hitches. I stare at him, my mind struggling to process his words.
“I’m in love with you, Ray,” he says, his tone quiet but firm, like he’s finally letting go of something that’s been weighing on him for too long.
The words hit me like a jolt to the chest, making my heart stutter and race so fast it feels like it might burst.
His gaze locks onto mine, unwavering. “I have been—for the whole damn year.”
My chest tightens as I try to make sense of it, to reconcile the Gabrielle standing in front of me—unguarded and vulnerable—with the composed, distant man I thought I knew. The man who’s been impossible to read, impossible to reach.
“I—” My voice cracks. I don’t even know where to begin. The intensity of the moment is almost too much, my heart pounding so hard it’s making me lightheaded.
Gabrielle doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, tinged with something raw and unsteady. “I decided that a while ago. I wasn’t going to say anything—maybe not ever. But after…” He hesitates, his jaw tightening before he continues. “After kissing you—and realizing you might actuallywantme—I couldn’t keep lying to myself. I can’t keep pretending.” His gaze sharpens, his voice breaking slightly with desperation. “I thought I could push it down, bury it, but being near you—it’s unbearable. It’s driving me insane.” He blinks. “I know it’s unprofessional. I know I shouldn’t feel this way. But I can’t stop.” His eyes hold mine, his voice strained. “Every time I see you smile, watch you run your hands through your hair, or catch you biting your lip when you’re concentrating—it drives me out of my mind.”
“Oh,” I say, my thoughts a jumbled mess. He steps closer, filling the shrinking space between us until the proximity is almost unbearable.
“Last night,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I wanted you so badly. But you were drunk, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t let myself take advantage of you.”
His words hang between us, heavy and unflinching, each one hitting like a sharp tug in my chest. And then, as if something snaps, the control in his voice fractures.
“But fuck, Ray,” he breathes, stepping closer, his chest brushing against mine. “I wanted to.” His voice drops lower, barely audible, each word cutting through the silence. “I wanted to fuck you so badly it hurt. And when I left, all I could think about was how much I wanted to make you come, how much I wanted to feel you lose yourself in my hands.”
My knees threaten to buckle, his voice hitting me like a live wire, electrifying every inch of me. His gaze burns into mine, searching, like he’s trying to read my mind.
“Then fuck me,” I breathe, taking his hand in mine, my voice unsteady but determined. “Make me come because—fuck—I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”
The words hit him hard—I see it in the sharp hitch of his breath, the slight parting of his lips. I tug him into my stall, and he steps in, closing the space between us. But before I can do anything else, his hand cups my cheek, anchoring me in place.
“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, a plea threading through his voice. “Tell me you really want me, and I won’t hold back.”
His gaze is relentless, searing into my skin, and my cock throbs in response.
I don’t hesitate. With trembling hands, I loop my arms around his neck and whisper, the words spilling out with a courage I didn’t know I had, “I really,reallywant you…to fuck me. To be mine.”
The surprise flashes in his eyes for a heartbeat before something darker and hungrier takes over. His hands are on me instantly, gripping my waist and pulling me tight against him, his body hard and unyielding.
And then his mouth crashes into mine, fierce and consuming, leaving my body weak and pliant in his hands. There’s nothing slow or tentative about this—it’s raw, urgent, a release of months of unspoken desire. His teeth catch my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me gasp, and then his tongue claims me, sweeping into my mouth. I clutch at his shoulders and his back, desperate to hold on, to feel as much of him as I can.
